


Dulce et Decorum Est

by MaraudingManaged



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Swearing, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 11:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingManaged/pseuds/MaraudingManaged
Summary: He'd be willing to do anything for them: heal them, support them, get himself into trouble for them. That was the Marauder Way - no good mischief goes unpunished. It was right, and it was fitting, to go down for his friends.





	Dulce et Decorum Est

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [themaraudersseventhyear](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/themaraudersseventhyear) collection. 



> Written for the Quills & Parchment "Marauders' 7th Year" Competition on Facebook. I had a choice of prompts, and mine was...
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Peter tends to get written out of history due to subsequent events, but he was as much a Marauder as Sirius was. Why? I'd love a convincing take on how he fitted in with the others, without retconning his 'rat-like features' and tendencies to betray before it happened.
> 
> Eternal thanks to my Beta, shootingdaggers! 
> 
> __**WINNER:**  
>  Overall Winner  
> Judges Favourite   
> Best Drama 
> 
> __**RUNNER-UP:**  
>  Best Characterisation  
> Best Use of 7th Year Theme 

 

 

**September 1977**

 

“The first moon back is always bad.” Remus warned them in a choked breath, writhing on the floor of the Shrieking Shack as the first flitting rays of the moon danced across the scarred expanse of his skin. “He… won’t rememb-”

His words were cut off with an agonised scream that turned into a howl. Remus Lupin, the man, was no more and in his place sprawled a panting, drooling, fully-grown werewolf: Moony.

Peter, Sirius and James had ignored his warnings - as they always did - much to their own idiocy. Moony apparently didn’t have time for Padfoot any longer, and saw the other canine as a threat. Luckily, Peter supposed with a grim wince, it had only been one razor-sharp claw that struck out like lightning, and he hadn’t seen a drip of saliva along those massive paws.

He’d scuttled up the werewolf’s back and swiped his tiny, but needle-like, claws against his eyes. The shrieking and wailing that followed had paid true justice to the Shack’s name as he scratched his best friend’s eyes, causing enough blood to well and a distraction that would give them time to escape.  
  
It was a calculated risk. One he’d taken before, only once, on the night that Sirius had betrayed Remus in the most diabolical way Peter had ever seen. It had distracted Moony just enough that James could capture Sniv- _Snape_ , and run with him away from the jaws of the snapping beast below the Shrieking Shack. He could have throttled his friend that night for the suffering he’d caused the young werewolf.

He’d healed, none the wiser to Peter’s actions, but Peter had told him anyway in the aftermath.  Remus had hugged him half to death in thanks, and told him to do it again if a situation ever called for it.

Tonight it had: to save Sirius’ life.  

Now, they were staggering down towards the castle, Sirius draped between them and bleeding profusely from a long gash on his back. His feet caught on the grass as they ran from the hulking mass of the Whomping Willow, where Peter could hear Remus banging against the entrance with all of his weight as he tried to get to them.

“C’mon, Paddy, you can do it.” Peter hissed, blonde hair slicking to his scalp with sweat as he heaved the larger boy with his admittedly _slender_ frame. “Keep moving, one foot in front of the other. Oh, damn it - Prongs? Put him down. He’s gonna faint or chuck-up; dunno which yet.”

Sirius’ face was pale and drawn tight with pain, and James hovered over him fearfully as they lowered him to the grass, not far from the castle wall and the very doors they’d been bolting towards.

“We can’t take him in like this, Wormy, he’ll bleed all over the floors and Mrs. Norris will be on us before you can say ‘Quidditch’.” James panted, running a hand through his already chaotic hair. Peter rolled his eyes.

“No sodding way? Flip him over - good job one of us knows a few healing charms, innit? Right, Paddy, this is gonna hurt like shite, sorry mate.”

“Just get - it - done!” Sirius hissed, his hands clawing into the grass as James gently rolled him onto his side.

Peter felt his stomach drop as he saw the wound - a tear in his skin so like the ones that Remus decorated himself with. “Shit, Pads, this is going to scar no matter what. I mean, I’ve some dittany up in the dorms but… this is a magical creature injury. Kettleburn says that they can’t ever be fully scar-free.” He said, regret clawing up his throat from deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah, well, I’ll have to live in a shirt forever won’t I? Moony can’t see it - oh _fucking Merlin_!” Sirius’s fists tightened as Peter ran his wand back and forth over the wound, first clearing it of blood and grime, and then beginning the careful process of trying to convince Sirius’ skin to knot together.

That was that then - they weren’t going to tell Remus what had happened that night. Peter felt a twinge of guilt about lying to him, but he knew that if they didn’t then it would mean the end to their ‘Marauder Nights Out’. He thought, as he ran his wand over the pale expanse of Sirius’ back with hissed spell after hissed spell, that it might just mean the end for Moony if he didn’t have company on the full moon.

“Right…” Peter muttered, watching as the skin closed as far as he could get it to, and the blood-flow eased significantly to a vague oozing. “Prongs?” He snapped his fingers, drawing James’ attention away from the gasping, sweaty boy laying face-first in the cool grass.  “In my trunk is a blood replenishing potion and a bottle of dittany - they’re labeled. You’ll need to drip the dittany over his back and then get him to take the replenisher. There’s a pain-relief potion in there too that I use when I have a headache; it’s not very strong, but it’ll help him get to sleep.”

“Got it, mate. Anything else?” James’ hazel eyes were burning with fear, dancing between Sirius’ back and the Whomping Willow, and Peter bit his lip.

“Look, he was in animal form and the curse _shouldn’t_ transfer even if... but... We don’t know if Moony licked his paws. I mean, don’t _think_ he did, and I was watching him from the start, but…”

An air, pregnant with unspoken ‘ _what if’,_ hung between them and James focussed his roving gaze on Peter with a sharp nod. “There’s a vial with silver powder in my trunk… just in case something like this happened. If he’s been infected then it won’t do much, but if it’s just a cut it’ll help the healing faster. Mix it in with the dittany - it shouldn’t cause any funny interactions.”

Peter finally sent a _ferula_ in Sirius’ direction, and bandages flew from the end of his wand in a tight bind around his chest. “Right, get him under the cloak - Sirius, stop whinging, you need the bandages tight - and get him to the Common Room.”

“Can’t - fucking - breathe!” Sirius complained in gasping breaths.

“Yeah, well, better short of breath than bleeding out, innit?” Peter glared as James dragged him to a standing position. “Now _go_ , I’ll cover you if anyone comes. I’ve got the Map.”

In a blink they were hidden, and only the track of footprints on the grass gave him any clue as to the individuals in question. He followed them quietly, slipping in the castle doors and pulling them closed behind him  - but not quite all the way. Just enough space for a small rat to fit through the gap.

“Ahem.”

A throat, rather pointedly, was cleared behind him. Peter froze, his breathing hitching. _Buggering, shitting hell-fire._ He’d hoped he’d get a bit further before having to face down a Professor, but Peter spun on the heel of his well-worn trainers and formed an expression of polite surprise that he’d been discovered at all.

“Good morning, Professor.” He offered a sweeping bow and a wink to the Head of Gryffindor. She was in a heavy tartan dressing gown, bundled tight around her, and was standing with her arms folded at the bottom of the grand staircase with fire in her eyes.

“Mr. Pettigrew. Am I to suppose that Black and Potter are cavorting around somewhere, causing untold mischief?” McGonagall stared him down, a single brow rising, and Peter plastered a grin on his face, hoping against hope that he could buy his mates enough time to get to the Common Room before the old bag came searching for them. He crossed his fingers behind his back, all the while still grinning like the idiot he was for taking the fall, _again_ , for James and Sirius.

“Not at all! I just happened to feel like an early morning stroll. Bit of exercise gets the blood pumping and makes you enjoy breakfast all the more - don’t you think?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.

“The only thing to be getting your _blood pumping_ , as you say, will be the detention you will be completing - well, this evening, I suppose.” Her lips pinched together in a tight line, suspicion heavy on her face. “You should not be out on the grounds or roaming the castle at this hour. It is not… _wise_.” Her eyes darted towards the doors of the castle and back to Peter again; he couldn’t help but nod along.

“Of course, Professor, of course. Don’t know what nasties might be lurking, am I right?”

“Hmmm. Get to bed, Pettigrew, and don’t let me see you about the castle any further. Twenty points from Gryffindor - and a further twenty _each_ for Black and Potter, as I’ve no doubt that they are lurking somewhere.”

“Why not Remus, Professor?” Peter asked with as much cheek as he dared, and the witch scowled again.

“One would _hope_ , Pettigrew, you know the answer to that particular question after being so close to Mr. Lupin for six years - well, seven, I suppose. If you do not, then I surely weep for the state of your education.”

“Oh, you mean his Prefectly duties?” Peter prodded her more, simply to try and get a rise out of her. Instead, her lips twitched faintly at one corner.

“What _else_ could I be referring to, Pettigrew?” She asked drily, and then held up a hand. “Oh, do not answer that. I haven’t the time, nor the energy, for your word games tonight. To bed. Now!” McGonagall gestured up the stairs with a snap of her fingers. “Oh, and tell Black and Potter that I expect them to report to me straight after breakfast. I expect them to be able to corroborate your story fully. What was the Headmaster _thinking_ , making James Potter Head Boy?” She threw her hands up in the air in a gesture of sheer exasperation.

Dashing for the stairs, Peter agreed with her sentiments entirely. “Might have been matchmaking, Professor!” He called back, waving at the witch.

“That poor, poor girl.” McGonagall sighed with a shake of her head. “You’re probably right, too. Good night, Mr. Pettigrew, and do stay out of trouble!”

Peter saluted with a toothy grin before melting into the shadows of Hogwarts at night. “I solemnly swear!”

She didn’t notice the small, plainly coloured rat scuttling back towards the doors in the shadows of the castle, and if a rat could smirk - as he darted back towards the Shrieking Shack as fast as his small legs could carry him - Wormtail would certainly be doing it. He needed to keep Remus distracted long enough to avoid Sirius whilst he was still healing, and he’d have to glue himself to his side in order to make it happen.

Peter’d do anything to keep everyone together in this last year. They’d done everything together, and this was no different.

But, as he scurried out of the castle, McGonagall - or Wormtail - didn’t notice another boy in the shadows, watching the scene play out to its conclusion with narrowed eyes, before slipping back towards the dungeons

 

 

* * *

 

**November 1977**

 

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Paddy… Happy birthday to you!”

Peter grinned as a large cake, bribed from the house-elves, floated magnificently before Sirius. He felt particularly smug about this little escapade, considering that Sirius had been quiet for the last month or so following the late September full moon. The boy’s grey eyes were wide and full of light as he blew out the 18 candles with over-exaggerated huffs, puffing out his cheeks, causing a chorus of chuckles from Frank, Remus and James in turn.

Oh yes, Peter had done _quite_ well. If it wouldn’t be too cocky, he’d have preened.

“This is great!” Sirius bounced on his bed as the cake floated to his lap. “And chocolate, too! Moony, old pal, you nick this and I’ll hex you.” He pointed at the chocoholic teen with his wand.

“Pads, that cake is big enough to feed all of Gryffindor.” Remus all but pouted, and James snickered in agreement.

“Honestly, you’ll get fat if you eat it all, or even die from too much sugar.”

“Yeah, well, Peter gets the first slice because he’s a magnificent bastard for getting it. After that, I _might_ let poor, mopey Moony have a bit.” Sirius flicked his hair back dramatically, the array of dark curls flinging about his face in elegant waves and whorls.

“Oi! What about me?” James frowned, “I’m your bloody brother!”

“I suppose I can offer you some, brother-dear.” Sirius admitted with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“Hey! What am I, a spare wand?” Remus huffed at Sirius’ clear partiality, and Peter grinned at the sandy-haired werewolf with enthusiasm.

“Ah, don’t worry Moony; If Pads here won’t let you have a slice, I’ll give you a bit of mine.” Peter promised the sulking boy, and his expression brightened a bit.

“You’re a good egg, Petey, thanks.” Remus smirked, “Unlike this old dog!” He gestured to Sirius who simply rolled his eyes and began the delicate slicing of his cake.

“Oh, before you do that, I also have this for you.” Peter reached behind him and passed a heavy box to Sirius with a nervous glance at James and Remus. “We all chipped in a bit, it was a bit pricey for one of us alone… but we figure - 18 in the Muggle world and of age in the Wizarding world, right?”

“Right.” Remus and James chorused.

Sirius placed the cake carefully on his bed before reaching out for the carefully wrapped box. He shook it and Peter heard a faint thunk before the dark-haired wizard tore into the wrapping with gusto.

“Holy shit.” Sirius breathed, eyes blowing wide.

Firewhisky, a 30 year old batch, and beneath it, a firm leather bike jacket with a flaming paw-print painstakingly stitched and charmed on the back. It had been James’ idea, and they’d all pitched in together to buy the jacket. Then they’d spent weeks enchanting it with everything they could think of to keep him as safe as physically possible. It was likely that in that jacket, he’d be better warded than most Aurors and Hit-wizards.

“Happy birthday, Sirius.” Remus said quietly, a small smile on his face as Sirius lifted the jacket to his nose and inhaled the smell of freshly waxed leather. “Need to get the bike to go with it now, don’t you?”

“Lads, I…” Sirius stumbled over his words, head bowed, and Peter glanced at James with a nod of his head, tilting it towards the bloke -  who was clearly struggling with the outpouring of their loyalty to him - with a jerk.

“C’mere, fleabag.” James grinned and launched himself at Sirius. “Pile-on!”

“Mind the cake!” Peter squeaked as Remus flung himself at James and Sirius, narrowly avoiding planting his bare feet in the rich icing. Sighing with defeat and well-practiced fond tolerance, Peter and Frank rolled their eyes at one another before joining in the crush of bodies atop Sirius.

He needed all the support and love he could get, Peter mused as he was crushed by the non-Marauder Gryffindor. They were more than happy to give it to him - and Peter would do just about anything for his friends.

 

* * *

 

**April 1978**

 

“Oh, fuck, Filch is coming!”

“Merlin’s saggy nutsack! Come on, we’re nearly done! Last few cups.”

“Be fucking careful, Prongs! You nearly knocked out half of this row before I stuck them down!”

Peter stood by the door, watching on the map whilst his friends covered the entirety of the Great Hall - tables, chairs, and floor - in transfigured cups full of red and gold-spelled water. They formed stripes in meticulously neat rows, and were stuck to the surfaces with sticking charms that would take at least an hour to undo before the final Gryffindor-Slytherin quidditch game of the season.

The hissed curses were in response to the looming figure of Argus Filch, crawling closer and closer to the Great Hall. “Come on, lads! We need to move it, sharpish.” Peter gesticulated wildly. It was only half an hour until the earliest-rising students in Ravenclaw would begin to trudge down for breakfast, and they needed to get themselves hidden _quickly_ so as not to arouse suspicion.

“Right - done! Pete, you stay with James and seal the doors. He can pretend he caught you out of bed if Filch arrives - Head Boy, after all. Sirius, you’re with me under the cloak. Come the bloody hell on!” Remus commanded them like a tightly-knit squadron, shooting the last of his sticking charms as he whispered rapid instructions.

“See you at base. Now go!” Peter hovered a little longer by the door, ushering each of the other Marauders out and directing them well away from Filch. Finally, it was he and James left, and the Head Boy was sealing the doors carefully whilst Peter scanned the map and the corridors as the morning rays shone brighter and brighter.

“Right, that should do it.” James nodded once in satisfaction. “Job well done. Now give us the map, and lets go.”

Just as the map was exchanging hands, a rasping cackle echoed in the hallway along with a plaintive meow. “Oh, look what we’ve found here, my beautiful. Two students out of bed and - wait, I recognise you!”

James and Peter cringed. “Good morning, Argus. I was just out patrolling and came across Peter here out of the dorms before he should be up.” James blustered, a self-important and rather pompous expression on his face.

“Did you now, boy? And what’s that you’ve got?” Filch’s beady eyes honed in on the parchment, still clasped in their hands.

“Peter had it. Looks to be some sort of trick parchment; probably something from Zonko’s or Gambol and Japes. I was just going to take it and give it to Profess-”

“All confiscated items come to me - I’ll have that, Potter. Don’t think I don’t know your mischief.”

“Mischief managed.” Peter muttered under his breath, and the map wiped itself just in time before Filch snatched it out of their hands with greedy glee. Both boys seemed to wilt as the parchment was turned over in his hands  - it wouldn’t do anything for him, non-magical as it was - but Peter felt his heart sink even still as their years of hard work and dedication to mischief was torn away from them.

“Right. Right, of course.” James mumbled. “Ten points from Gryffindor for being out of the Common Room before breakfast, Peter. Let’s go - I’ll walk you back.”

As James spoke, Mrs. Norris was winding herself around Peter’s legs with what he could only describe as a look of hunger, before biting down, hard, on his ankle.

“Ow! Bloody hell, get off me!” Peter staggered back, and the cat hissed viciously at him.

“My love knows when she sees trouble, yes indeed. Get going, I’m reporting this to Professor McGonagall. No doubt she’ll want to know just what you were doing, Pettigrew.”

“No sodding problem.” Peter glared at the cat before stalking up the staircase towards Gryffindor, hand shoved in his pockets. James followed quickly after, and they walked in sullen silence back to the tower.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe the old codger nicked our map.”  James grumbled as he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. “ _Billywig._ ” He spat at the portrait, who glared sullenly at them as she was roused from her sleep in an untimely and unpleasant manner.

“And good morning to you too!” She sniffed as the portrait swung open. The two boys clambered in through the gap.

“About time! Did you get caught?” Sirius called from the sofa by the fire, and Remus shuffled over from his spot on the floor to survey the group as the two final Marauders slumped into armchairs.

“Worse.” James said, teary-eyed. “We lost it.”

“Lost what?” Remus frowned.

“The map. Twatting Filch caught us just as I was passing it to James. He had to give it up after that.” Peter’s voice broke at the end of his sentence, thinking again of the hours they’d spent developing it. It was their legacy, and it was gone.

“Fuck.” Sirius stared at the floor. “D’you reckon we can nick it back? I’ve got that penknife that can open any lock, and…”

“Nah, Sirius. Not worth it.” Remus waved a hand, face pensive. “We know everything on that map by heart now anyway, and we’re so close to the end of the year anyway… let’s leave it. Leave it for another group of mischief-makers to find, yeah?”

“They’d have to be good enough to find it in the first place.” James said thoughtfully, his hazel eyes gaining a little of the sparkle they’d lost. “It’s like the ultimate failsafe. Who knows what our kids will be like? They might be swots with no talent for trouble.”

The Marauders all glanced at each other, and broke out in to simultaneous, devillish smirks.

“Nah.”

“No way.”

“Not a chance.”

“With us around? Right, what was I thinking?”

“Why you were thinking about kids at all, James, is what I want to know.” A lilting northern voice interrupted their conversation, and all four heads turned to see Lily Evans leaning against the bottom of the girls’ staircase with a single raised brow. “Why are you all up so early, anyway? What have you done?”

“Nothing at all love, nothing at all.” James stood and approached his girlfriend - _girlfriend,_ Peter chuckled to himself - and kissed her lightly on the lips in greeting.

“Hmm. I’ll believe that when today goes entirely smoothly.” She flicked her hair behind her, and Peter rolled his eyes at Sirius and Remus, making a gagging sound and sticking his fingers into his mouth with exaggerated movements. “Oh, go suck a lemon, Pete.” Lily pointed at him, but there was no venom in her words.

“Right. We’ve quarter of an hour before breakfast - I’m off to change into my gear. C’mon, Pads - we’ve some snakes to pulverise.” James cracked his knuckles, and Lily tilted her head up for a final kiss before he disappeared into his quidditch captain persona.

“Good luck, James.” She reached up to run her hand through his messy hair, smoothing it down as best she could.

“Thanks, Evans. Can I get a snog too?” Sirius waggled his eyebrows, elbows on the back of the sofa, and Lily snorted as she flopped down into the chair James had vacated.

“I’d rather kiss the giant squid.”

“You said that about James once.” Peter pointed out, and the Head Girl sniffed imperiously at him with another flick of her auburn tresses.

“Yes, well, this time I mean it.” She scoffed, and Sirius blew her a kiss before heading up the stairs to change into his own quidditch robes.

Her roars of righteous indignation when they reached the Great Hall only to be met with row upon row of Gryffindor-shaded cups of water -  littering every possible surface, preventing the elves from sending up breakfast and the students from sitting down - made all four Marauders smirk, and even laugh outright.

That was until she stormed after them, wand brandished before her, and Peter hid behind Remus with a squeak to avoid the stinging hexes she sent their way.

“James Fleamont Potter! Get back here - you’re dead, you’ll never fly again when I’m finished with you!” She screeched. “How the hell am I supposed to get through your stupid bloody match without coffee? You utter toerag!”

“Don’t suppose this is the time to tell her we can get into the kitchen, is it?” Remus whispered to Peter as they watched Lily fly out of the doors after James and Sirius, face as red as her hair.

“Eh, leave that to James as a make-up present.” Peter shrugged. “I’d rather stay out of her way to be honest - that witch is downright _scary_.”

 

* * *

 

**May 1978**

 

“Pettigrew, right?” A smooth, refined voice called to him from the shadows as Peter headed towards the doors of the school, ready to transform for the penultimate moon of their last year at Hogwarts.  

“Who’s there?” He hissed, eyes darting around in the gloom of the for the figure speaking to him. How he wished they still had the bloody map! “ _Reg?”_ Peter gaped as the young man emerged from the shadows of a statue, his hair shorter and more contained than his older brother’s, but his silvery grey eyes an identical match.

“Is there somewhere quiet we can go, just to talk? There’s… there are some things I need to know.”

Peter glanced at the darkening sky - the moon due to rise any moment - and grimaced before nodding once, curtly. “C’mon, _Reggie_ \- I know somewhere we can talk.”

He was going to get in so much trouble with the other Marauders, he knew, but it was worth it to potentially hex a snake - and this snake, in particular, was a prize he would get high praise for. Regulus looked unimpressed by the nickname, but remained stalwart in his mission and Peter sighed before guiding the 6th year onwards.

The smaller boy led the Slytherin to an old classroom, never used, near to the Hospital wing. Once upon a time, near the beginning of their third year, Remus and Peter had found the room stacked with old mediwizard student texts and notes that had formed the basis of Peter’s understanding of healing spells. Now, they used it as a practice duelling room and a room to work in when they needed to tweak the map or, in years gone by, work on their animagus forms.

“Get in.” Peter gestured, eyes flitting from alcove to alcove before creeping back into the room and closing the door with a sharp click. “What do you want?”

The younger boy ran a hand through his hair - a gesture so like his older brother it made Peter blink - and then leaned against a desk that was pushed against the far wall. “I just wanted to ask something. I need… is he okay? Is Sirius… is he happy?”

Peter scoffed. “Really? Bloody _really_? You’ve got some nerve, baby Black, asking if Sirius is okay after everything you let happen to him. Why should I tell you sodding anything if you can’t locate the bollocks to ask him yourself?”

“Oh, like Sirius would even let me near him!” The other boy exploded, and then shrank back as if stunned. “I _hate_ that I couldn’t help him. I was locked in my fucking bedroom until it was too late to stop Mother, but I managed to get him into the Floo to the Potters as soon as I physically could.”

Peter stared at the Slytherin seeker, and shook his head in disbelief. “He’s fine. Working, for a change, for his N.E.W.Ts; but he plans to be an Auror so he needs all the hard work he can get.”

“An Auror? Good… that’s… good, I suppose. It’d suit him, after all.” Regulus’ nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought. “And is he happy?”

Pete’s smile lit up the gloomy room. “Happiest I’ve ever known him.”  Regulus seemed to sag - with relief, or anger, Peter wasn’t sure. “What? Wanted him to be miserable without you? Sorry, but not getting _crucio’d_ every school holiday is only going to improve his mood.” Pete said waspishly, and Regulus sank back further into himself.

“I know, I know! Look. You’re leaving soon, and I’ll never get the chance to see him again. Will you… will you keep me updated on him? How he is, what he’s up to? I need to know he’s okay with everything that’s going on…” Regulus gestured vaguely towards the windows, “... Out there. Potter would only tell me to go fuck myself, and Lupin is too suspicious by half. He’d take my motives and twist them out of proportion to suit his own agenda.”

Peter’s smile fell. “He’ll kill me if he finds out. No sodding way, I’m not betraying him like that.”

“Pettigrew, _please_. Do you wish for me to get down on bended knee and beg? Because I would hate to sully my new trousers and I would like to think you’re a better person than require that.”

Peter watched the emotions playing over Regulus’ face - concern, frustration, and perhaps even familial affection - and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t be seen to be doing it. It’ll have to be secret. And I don’t trust you, quite honestly.”

Regulus finally broke out into the closest thing to a grin any Slytherin seemed to be capable of. “You’re a good man, Peter Pettigrew. The world needs more men like you.”

“Yeah-fucking-yeah.” He waved a hand, a strange sensation of dread sitting in the pit of his stomach. “If any of this comes back to me, I’ll deny it with my dying breath.”

“Don’t worry about it. Give me your out of school address, and I’ll owl you whenever I can.”

Peter told him the name and location of his parents home in Essex before striding for the door. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got places to be. This conversation never happened, baby-Black.”

“I understand. What are you planning on doing after Hogwarts, anyway?”

Peter shrugged, nonplussed. “If my potions N.E.W.T is good enough, a healer. If not…”  He replied with caution.

“Well, think about the Ministry if you don’t have any luck. I hear the Wizengamot offices are looking for clerks and assistants, you know. You’ll still see lots of Sirius and Potter if you get the job - and Gryffindors nearly always get the job.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “I still don’t trust you, Black. But thanks for the tip.”

“Of course.” Regulus muttered, ignoring the stinging hex that shot against his ribs until the door shut, when Peter heard him howl in pain with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

_They needed a fall-man, after all. Potter was too self-righteous, Sirius would sooner die, and Lupin - if Severus’ hints were true - was of too less a standing to ever be trusted. No-one could trust a werewolf to do a Wizard's work, could they?_  
  
_Pettigrew was inconspicuous. Pettigrew was already well-established in the role. Pettigrew was perfect; a pawn ready to be manipulated for the Dark Lord’s cause. And Pettigrew had fallen for his initial ruse without so much as a blink, more than willing to give up information regarding Sirius to his concerned younger brother. A spy, without knowing he was a spy at all - for now._

_And now Regulus had an address that would make his Lord very happy indeed._

_All they needed to do was make it look like a Muggle attack, sow the seeds of discontent, and watch the unfurling destruction._

_Oh yes, his Lord would be very happy indeed._

 

 


End file.
